


Destinies Burning Bright

by TriffidsandCuckoos



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows, Coming of Age, M/M, Magic Revealed, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriffidsandCuckoos/pseuds/TriffidsandCuckoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first sign to Merlin that Something Was Up was when he noticed the birds.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destinies Burning Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my LJ 18th January 2010, when I was halfway through the second series. I have altered the odd line and added one post-S2 reference, but otherwise this remains as it was.

The first sign to Merlin that Something Was Up was when he noticed the birds. 

Not that it was unusual to see birds in Camelot. The capital and the surrounding area had its own fair share of songbirds, birds of prey and all the rest in between, all the way up to a clutch of owls which had seemed to have a thing for Merlin from his very first day. A mostly flattering stalking thing for him, really.

However, some owls with an (admittedly rather unsettling) tendency to appear whenever he was outside at night was one thing. Seeing them around during the day was quite clearly another. And for that matter, Merlin thought, watching the ravens lined up along the wall staring back at him, whatever was happening to the birds at the moment wasn’t what he would call natural. 

Still, this being Camelot, he could simply accept it as a sign of trouble later and make a mental note to keep an eye out for any tall, mysterious and darkly-robed strangers being followed by birds. Lots of kinds of birds to boot, considering the flocks which had started appearing about a week ago, some of which he had never seen before. So definitely sorcery then; business as usual.

It was also business as usual for Merlin to carefully ignore the fact that those flocks of birds only seemed to be appearing around him, such as, for example, those ravens which seemed to be actually watching him. Watching him like a…well, probably not a hawk, because that was probably incredibly offensive in bird terms, but like some scary birds which were really starting to get to him. 

Shivering, and not just from the knee-deep snow, he turned away, pushing his way through the drifts towards the relative safety of the castle.

He could still feel their eyes on him though, and the snow only seemed to be holding him in place. Gritting his teeth, he pushed forwards, thinking of those birds and starting to wish that the snow would just let him through. Looking overhead, his eyes widened as he noticed even more flying down to join them, and so didn’t notice that his steps had suddenly become much easier. 

It wasn’t until his sightline was blocked by the soaring walls of the castle that he looked back; just to check whether they had actually followed him. However, all thoughts of birds (apart from general paranoia) went clean out of his head when he saw the path that he had forced through the snow.

Or rather, the path he had _melted._

Swallowing hard, he stared at the clear line that marked his passage: a deep ditch which went all the way down to reveal the street beneath. It was extremely hard to believe that nobody was going to notice it, assuming they hadn’t already. At least he couldn’t hear the increasingly-familiar sounds of public outcry yet.

Hopelessly, in that brief dazed moment before true panic (or logic, for that matter) could set in, he lifted his hands and held them out on either side of the path, squinting as if it could somehow grow smaller or even disappear altogether if you looked at it in the right way… And then let out an undignified sound that sounded suspiciously like _eep_ as the walls of snow flanking the pathway fell in, spilling across until there was no sign that anything had ever been there, melted or otherwise.

Briefly his mind tried conjuring up explanations involving the wind or the instability of snow or even something to do with hundreds of birds flying around… Except anybody who had seen it (he cast one or two panicked glances around for witnesses, trying to decide which explanation might be more convincing for magic-hating peasants) could clearly have seen that it had happened in the wrong way. That the only real explanation, as with so many things that ‘just happened’ to occur around Merlin, was, well, magic.

Except he hadn’t said anything. He had simply hoped, and it had happened.

“Er,” he said wisely. Before turning and running for the gateway into the castle.

\----------

It wasn’t that it was the first time recently that Merlin’s magic hadn’t needed that much…directing. As he pelted into Arthur’s bedroom, the door slammed shut behind him and the fire leapt merrily into life, the warmth welcoming after the snow outside. Automatically waving a hand at the bed sheets, which obediently straightened themselves out, he collapsed into a chair by the fire. 

At some point in the last year (he wasn’t entirely sure when), he had just stopped needing to say all of the words for spells. Then gradually it had dawned on him that not even those he’d kept were actually necessary. For the tasks he did with monotonous regularity, like making Arthur’s bed, the thought alone seemed enough. Soon enough, even that could be missed, his magic apparently as mindlessly habit-forming as himself.

Perhaps that was worrying. However, at least there was some precedent for using magic in that manner. Whatever had happened outside… Merlin didn’t even _know_ a spell for that, let alone how to do it without words or even a conscious command.

He was about to bring Arthur’s armour to him with a gesture before he stopped himself. Slowly he stood up and walked over to it, picking it up by hand instead. 

Probably best not to encourage these things.

As he struggled up with it (Arthur might not feel the weight so much on the battlefield, but then he didn’t have to carry it, the bastard), Merlin noticed the bag of coins a little too late. In fact, he only realised he had knocked it when he spotted the flash of gold heading down towards the floor. Just before they hit, he muttered, “Heads,” not thinking about it and with the resigned air of somebody who really hoped that he could put it all back just right without being accused of anything.

The coins thudded against the floor. Looking down at them, Merlin’s face went white.

Head after head after head stared up at him.

Setting the armour down again, he bent down to pick up a coin. He squinted at it; held it up to the light; bit on it. Seemed like gold. Of course, only Arthur (or any noble, he supposed) would leave gold coins lying around in his chambers. 

Experimentally, he flicked it up into the air, saying, “Heads.” It landed in his hand, head-side up.

He tried again.

“Heads.” Heads.

A glance around. “Tails.” Tails.

He bit his lip. “Tails.” This time he flicked it up high as he said the word, catching it and flipping it over onto his other hand. He looked down, heart thudding in his chest.

Tails.

He stared at it. Then, slowly, he flicked it up again and stood back. “Edge.”

It landed on the ground, bounced once or twice, span around, and finally came to a stop, balanced on its edge.

“...Shit.”

He stood there, staring at the coin in horror. Then his head jerked up in alarm as he heard the door handle turn. Heart thudding in his chest, he turned in enough time to see the last coins flying up into their bag as he seized an armful of armour in his own attempt to look innocent. Unfortunately, the pieces he didn’t manage to grab clattered to the floor, raising a din that the Dragon could have heard.

Slowly the last echoes faded away. Merlin warily opened his eyes again, and all he could think was that at least he, or whoever was controlling his magic right now, didn’t try to freeze any of it. 

That is, all he could think before the inevitable drawl came from the doorway. “Merlin, I realise the life of a servant must be frustrating, but I hardly think that justifies throwing _my armour_ to the floor.”

Helplessly he looked back over his shoulder to see Arthur leaning against the doorjamb, eyebrows raised at him. “Of course,” he added conversationally, straightening up and strolling over to him in that way of his which screamed out _I am going to make your life a living hell for the next week and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it_ , “if you’ve done any damage to it whatsoever, you’ll have to fix it as well.”

“Right,” Merlin agreed, nodding enthusiastically and already thinking it was probably best to try to rush it all over to his own room with the way his magic had been behaving lately.

Unfortunately – as he realised a little too late – readily agreeing with Arthur was probably the worst thing he could have done. The prince was already looking at him suspiciously. “And you’re all right with that,” he said slowly, obviously sceptical to say the least. 

“Oh, you know,” Merlin said airily, frantically trying to think of a plausible, non-magical reason why he would have suddenly started agreeing with Arthur on his duties, “just following your orders and all that. That’s my job, right?”

Definitely the wrong answer. Merlin had never realised how natural their exchanges had been until he’d had to start thinking about them. “Merlin, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing!” He tried his best _I’m a clumsy, non-magical idiot_ grin, the one that made the cooks smile indulgently and give him extras. Normally it even made Arthur soften up a bit, albeit only as far as Arthur ever softened up. (He had tried explaining this to Morgana once – or rather tried to get Morgana to explain it to him – but she had only gotten this strange, smug, indulgent smile on her face.)

However, that was unfortunately only what was normal. This time the grin’s main effect was to make Arthur narrow his eyes and look at him a little too closely, and an unhelpful part of Merlin’s brain chose that moment to make some comment about the colour of Arthur’s eyes. He flushed, and on the other side of the room something conveniently heavy and consequently loud dropped onto the floor.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Merlin quickly bent down to scoop up the rest of the armour and made a run for the still-open door, ignoring Arthur’s calls after him.  
If the doors in front of him appeared to open without being touched, he tried not to think about it. Once Arthur actually noticed something, it was usually best to make a run for it.

\----------

The door slammed shut, the armour clattered and clanged unhelpfully on the floor, and Merlin cried, “Gaius, I have a problem.”

Since this was not entirely new, Gaius did not immediately look up from his experiment. Prioritising had become something very important ever since Merlin had arrived with his weekly (or less) life-or-death situations.

Standing back eventually, he turned and raised an eyebrow at Merlin. “Well, what now?” he asked, with the air of someone who was prepared to be extremely disapproving no matter what was said. So Merlin decided not to bother softening the blow.

“I think I’m losing control of my magic.”

There was a long pause. Gaius’ eyebrow remained raised, but now there was a slightly more terrifying edge to it.

“…Either that or it’s a lot stronger than it used to be?”

He tried an encouraging smile. If anything, Gaius’ eyebrow only went higher. Merlin hated these awkward silences, if only because he had a tendency to try to fill them with whatever happened to come into his head.

This one was no exception. “Well, there was this thing with the snow, and then it covered itself up, and all the coins were heads or tails, except one which was an edge, and then this thing fell down and all the birds are following me and oh gods they’re at the window!”

The last part of his wonderful explanation was made due to the sight of seven magpies lined up on the outside window sill, staring in at him. At any other time such a sight might have led him to make some comment about secrets, but given how the birds had been acting around him, not to mention his nerves from his magic and Arthur almost catching him, he chose instead to make a dive for the relative safety of the table.

He heard a weary sigh from somewhere above, followed by the comfortingly familiar disapproving tone of Gaius’ voice. “Merlin, what have you done now?”

“I haven’t done anything!” he protested from under the table. “They just keep following me!”

“I meant with your magic! What have coins and snow got to do with it?”

Mentally Merlin replayed his explanation. Perhaps he could have been a little bit clearer. Poking his head out, he peered up at Gaius. “I, er, melted some snow without thinking about it. And then it filled itself in.” He tried the same smile he had used on Arthur, with roughly the same amount of success, judging by the eyebrow.

“And the coins?”

He shrugged helplessly. “They fell exactly how I said they would. Including the one on its edge.”

At this last piece of information, Gaius’ eyes widened in horror. Well, at least he thought it was serious too. 

He crouched down next to Merlin, demanding, “Tell me nobody saw this.”

“They didn’t, don’t worry,” Merlin said quickly, hoping Gaius would be too distracted to notice that he didn’t sound completely confident. Apparently the eyebrow wouldn’t let him get away with that though, as he found himself adding, more than a tad self-destructively, “At least, I didn’t see _them_.”

“Merlin,” Gaius said slowly, and the leech-tank suddenly loomed large and terrifying and uncleaned in his mind, “that was also what you thought when you conjured a horse out of smoke.” Merlin cringed at the reminder, but, as ever, his mentor did have a point.

Weakly, he tried to defend himself. “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose! I just think things and, well, they happen.” With a glance towards the window, he added, “Except the birds. I don’t think about them. In fact, I’d really like it if they just left me alone. The owls were bad enough, but—”

“What about the owls?” Gaius interrupted, looking alarmed, and Merlin frantically tried to remember if he had ever mentioned them. Apparently, his thoughts told him, he had not. This was probably not going to be pretty.

Trying to sound casual, he clarified, “They turn up sometimes. Just when I’m outside at night or something. Especially when I’m in the woods with Arthur.” Usually he tried not to talk in short sentences after Arthur made some comment about his brain being too stunted to handle anything longer than five words (that may have been when he had tried to explain away one too many dropped plates – when he was panicking about magic, Merlin could manage some surprisingly long and disjointed sentences, but it was hard to summon up the same level of emotion for crockery). However, these were not usual circumstances, and any mental suggestions for longer sentences promptly fled his mind as soon as he registered just how somebody might take that sentence about Arthur and the woods.

Thankfully, Gaius had either taken the reference to hunting as it had been intended or was going to try very hard not to probe any further. “How long has this been going on, exactly?” Underneath the words Merlin could detect the disapproving edge of _and when were you going to tell me about it?_ As if he didn’t have enough to worry about with Arthur on his case as well. 

“The owls?” he asked, already perfectly aware that Gaius meant a lot more than that. “I didn’t really notice them for a while, but, er, since I got here?” Gaius’ eyebrow was going to haunt his nightmares for the next week, he could already tell. “Maybe? The rest started showing up about a week ago, but it’s been getting a lot worse.”

“And your magic?” At least now Gaius was giving the magpies wary looks as well.

When Merlin really thought about it, he guessed that the instinctive spells had started, well… “It started acting strange about a year ago, maybe.” He tried to pin down a specific moment, but came up blank. It had just been useful, not significant until it had really dawned on him. “I just thought it was useful, since I don’t really have to put much thought into cleaning Arthur’s chambers or—”

“What about Arthur’s chambers?”

“I mean, it’s easier saving Arthur’s life!” Merlin corrected himself quickly. “From the many life-threatening situations he gets himself into. Very helpful not to have to think too much there.”

“You’ve used unreliable magic around Arthur?” It was interesting that Gaius hadn’t questioned using magic around the crown prince full-stop, yet that wasn’t the main issue here, Merlin guessed. 

“Not when he’s actually there,” Merlin reassured him in a voice which hopefully suggested he was scandalised by the very thought. “And if he is, not when he’s looking. He hasn’t figured it out yet, has he?” Which seemed slightly too lucky when Merlin thought about it, given that Arthur was supposed to be this great hunter and always seemed to be watching Merlin anyway (not that Merlin always objected to this – it could be a little flattering sometimes), but he also seemed pretty convinced that Merlin was too stupid to hide anything. (Excepting that one comment about his having ‘something to hide’.)

“Anyway,” he added to get away from invasive thoughts of Arthur, “it’s only been getting much stronger this last week.”

“Like the birds.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, before the implication sank in and he shrank back. “Not that they’re connected. I mean, there could just be more birds. I’m not the only one with magic around here…” At Gaius’ disbelieving look, he allowed, “Okay, so maybe they are connected. What would my magic have to do with birds?”

Gaius sighed, standing up and stretching, accompanied by various sounds of age which Merlin pretended he hadn’t heard. “It’s not just your magic, Merlin; it’s your uncontrolled magic. If it’s becoming more instinctive, that means you’re not controlling _it_ , it’s controlling _you_. It’s following your feelings, not your orders, which is something far closer to the magic of old and therefore much closer to nature.”

Ignoring the normal doom and gloom, it was good to hear some sort of explanation for what was happening. “So, we find out why I’m using this…other magic, and we stop it?” He forced a grin, silently pleading with Gaius to agree, only to feel it falter and fall as his mentor simply turned away.

He didn’t even need to hear Gaius’ next words. “It’s not as simple as that, Merlin.” There were muffled thuds from above, the sign of Gaius pulling out his books for research. Silence followed, and cautiously Merlin crawled out from under the table, resolutely not looking at the magpies still watching from the window.

As if sensing Merlin standing up behind him, Gaius tapped a page in his book. “There is a plausible explanation for what could be increasing your powers in this week, but not why it has been happening steadily over the last year.”

“What’s so special about this week?” Merlin asked hopefully, leaning over to peer at the page.

Gaius sighed with the weary air of one who was growing tired of having to explain everything. “This week, or, more specifically, tomorrow is the day of the Midwinter Festival. Or it would be, if Uther hadn’t banned its celebration years ago.”

“Oh yeah,” Merlin murmured, smiling to himself as memories of Ealdor came back to him. “We used to celebrate it back home. One of my favourite days of the year.”

“It’s also an important event in the Old Religion. Your magic could be reacting to that, although I don’t seem to recall anything similar happening last year…” Gaius looked up sharply. “You said your magic started increasing a year ago?”

“Something like that.” Merlin shrugged, still caught up in his memories of home. “I lost track of things around then. I missed home, I guess, what with Midwinter and remembering about Will and my birthday…” He trailed off there as his brain caught up with the mention of his best friend. When he had realised Midwinter had been approaching, the memory of Will had been much fresher, and the reminder of their double celebration had made the thought of him cut deep.

Gaius seemed distracted by something else though. “Your birthday?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said quietly. “We always used to celebrate it just after Midwinter. It was easier than on the day, what with the other celebrations and how people behaved about it…” At this point he noticed Gaius’ expression. “What? I don’t really celebrate it because people get a bit funny about somebody being born at…” 

He trailed off. Gaius closed his eyes with that air of concerned despair which he seemed to save specially for Merlin. 

“But,” he spluttered, “it’s never meant anything before! It’s just one of those things! I mean, it’s not like my mum died then the same way Arthur’s did,” and he stopped there because it was such a sensitive subject around the prince (or, indeed, anybody in Camelot) that he normally didn’t mention it at all. People just didn’t refer to it, apparently deciding it was better left unsaid, rather like the more superstitious ones back in Ealdor.

Trying to drag his mind away from there back onto the present problem, he caught sight of Arthur’s armour where he had dumped it. When it started to rise up on its own, Gaius turned to stare incredulously at it, before shooting a disapproving glare at Merlin.

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” he muttered wearily, pushing himself away from the table and beginning to grab the pieces out of the air. “And I still have to wait on Arthur later.” With that, he stumbled into his room before Gaius could start another lecture. Collapsing back on his bed and resolutely ignoring the two hawks watching from his window, he heard his polish and everything else find their way out and start to attack the armour as the door swung closed.

\----------

He woke up with the guilty feeling of someone who knew they shouldn’t have been asleep and a strange tingling sensation in his fingers. It was dark outside, which perhaps wasn’t so worrying given the time of year, except he could _feel_ that it was later than he had hoped. The sight of owl eyes peering in at him did not help.

Scrambling off his bed, he hurtled for the door as it sprang open so hard that it rebounded off its hinges. It was only as he was pelting down the corridors and up the stairs towards Arthur’s chambers that he realised he had forgotten the armour. Oh well, he could grab it in the morning.

Focusing on getting to Arthur before the feast tonight (unless it had already started, in which case he was going to be in even more trouble) did at least distract him from the odd buzzing sensation under his skin. It wasn’t unpleasant exactly, more like vibrations felt through the walls whenever the castle was attacked. Except this felt more personal, because it was inside him.

Carefully he ignored the far greater numbers of birds at every window he passed, and so also missed the cry from inside a visiting noblewoman’s bedchamber as her maid saw the flowers carefully arranged in a vase miraculously sprout into a second life. Some things were best not noticed for now, or preferably ever.

At the last minute, he managed to pull back on his magic before it opened Arthur’s door for him, preferring not to explain that one to the crown prince right now. Instead he stopped just outside, long enough to mostly catch his breath, before heaving the door open and gingerly stepping inside.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he found Arthur already mostly dressed, leaning next to the fireplace as he fiddled irritably with the laces of his shirt. Without looking up, he said, “There’s no need to run here, Merlin. I’m quite used to having to do this myself now.” Which was true enough. Maybe it had been Morgana’s words in Ealdor, but Arthur seemed much readier to do that duty himself these days. When Merlin managed to make it on time, he now actually seemed uncomfortable with being dressed by him.

“Just putting in an appearance, _sire_ ,” Merlin said cheerfully, putting his practiced twist on the title as he walked over and batted Arthur’s hands away. “It’s my job to do all these little things, remember?”

He could almost feel Arthur’s glare. “I think, _Mer_ lin, I’m quite capable of tying up some laces.”

“Which is exactly why you hadn’t done it already, I’m sure,” he replied, happy to feel some of the ease which had been missing earlier slipping back into their conversation. However, his relaxation was short-lived, since when he looked down he saw the laces beginning to tie themselves. Hastily he grabbed them, hoping that Arthur really was as unobservant as he must be sometimes.

For a moment it looked like the prince was going to say something, before he apparently thought better of it and simply looked away towards the window. “Strange,” Merlin heard him mutter and followed his gaze, before stifling a yelp as he noticed the owls staring in at them. This time, though, they spread their wings and flew away in a flurry, as if startled by something.

Trying to keep up appearances, Merlin hurried over to Arthur’s closet and peered inside, grabbing a coat at random. At the last moment he noticed it was one he had thrown in there a few months ago rather than face cleaning it, yet even as he noticed that, it was suddenly as clean and fresh as if he had only just done so. Which, in a way, he had.

He turned around, resolutely keeping up his innocent smile, only to feel it falter when he noticed Arthur watching him closely. “What?” he asked, with a tone that conveyed a little too much concern.

Another hesitation, before the prince simply shook his head and muttered, “Nothing,” which was worrying in itself.

Biting his lip, Merlin helped Arthur into his coat, quite expecting Arthur flinch away the moment it was done, the way he had started recently. However, he was not expecting the prince to spin around, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him much closer than Merlin might have preferred. Especially when it wasn’t the distance that bothered him – once you had faced death together enough times, it was surprising how little personal boundaries seemed to matter – it was the intense look in Arthur’s eyes as he peered at him. Actually, maybe ‘bothered’ wasn’t the right word. He could feel a weird jump in his chest, one he was more used to whenever he thought people had seen his magic…

And at the same time, the fire behind them suddenly flared up, flooding the room with light and heat.

Arthur looked away in surprise, his grip relaxing enough for Merlin to spring back as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He had just enough time to school his face into something less panicked and more ‘huh, interesting’ when Arthur looked back at him. “What was that?” he demanded, his expression somehow angry and suspicious and something else that Merlin probably wouldn’t like either.

Merlin grabbed for the first explanation that came to mind. “Wind,” he said simply.

“The window’s shut.”

“Door’s open.” Merlin shrugged.

Arthur shot the door its own accusing glance. “It didn’t move.”

“It’s a heavy door.”

At least the familiar look of despair, frustration and some level of awe at Merlin’s idiocy was back. Not that Merlin liked it, but it was definitely preferable to whatever that first one had been. Then, after a last glance out of the window (Merlin half-turned before deciding that he would be less likely to be associated with any avian crowding issues if he didn’t look at them), Arthur shook his head and stalked out of the room.

Merlin exhaled in relief, collapsing back on the bed. The mattress felt like it was shifting underneath him into the most comfortable position and he sighed in pleasantly surprised contentment…until he realised that that was exactly what was happening, and he left to his feet in surprise and not a little fear, accompanied by another flare from the fire.

“Merlin!”

Oh, right. The manservant thing. The not-at-all-magic-related manservant thing. Merlin could do that for one night.

If his response to Arthur’s call looked an awful lot like somebody running for safety, well, there was nobody to comment on it.

\----------

The itching under his skin was back. Merlin shifted uncomfortably, wanting to move, to do _something_ other than just stand here waiting on Arthur. Even more worrying was the fact that he could feel his magic moving restlessly inside him, as if it was looking for a way out. Clearly that wasn’t a good thing when he was standing in a crowded banquet hall, and he was determinedly trying to distract himself by thinking of some sort of plausible excuse for either running away or some giant display of magic just to get it out there. 

It really didn’t help that Arthur kept shooting him Looks, whether he was serving him or trying to lurk near the wall. (Merlin wasn’t particularly known for his lurking skills, but he was determined to try.) This wasn’t unusual in itself – Arthur apparently appreciated having somebody to roll his eyes at, along with that _other_ look that Merlin still couldn’t label – except that now those looks were vaguely confused and slightly angry, with that edge of worry that Merlin only recognised thanks to knowing the prince slightly better than was probably healthy. Whenever he caught one of those looks, he tried to force his trusty grin onto his face, which didn’t seem to work somehow. In fact, it hadn’t been working all day. Maybe he’d broken it through overuse.

Those looks were the only distraction for him that seemed to be working though. Every time their eyes met, Merlin felt a weird jump in his chest and the magic temporarily retreated (as far as he knew, because he didn’t notice the goblets which suddenly spilt themselves or the tapestries that sighed in a sudden gust of wind). When his magic surged back up again a moment later, feeling only stronger for being ignored, he chalked up the reaction as the same thrill at potentially being discovered as earlier. After all, Arthur didn’t give people intense looks like that unless they’d done something wrong. Well, apart from that short-lived thing with Gwen…

Speaking of whom, she was giving him a strange look too from her position pouring Morgana more wine. Not as strong as Arthur’s, but enough to make Merlin flinch guiltily. He stepped back, his fingers brushing against the table, before flinching away when he felt the wood burn hot under his fingers. Looking down, he saw the burn marks standing out dark and accusing against the wood.

That was new. That was definitely… _Shit._

Slowly he backed away towards the main banquet table, eyes fixed on the singed wood as if it was about to launch an attack. Just what was happening to him? 

Then he jumped and only just stifled a yell when he felt a hand seize his wrist.

Looking around in what he hoped wasn’t obviously fear, he saw Arthur looking at him again, the effect only even more disorienting closer up. “Merlin,” the prince hissed, “what the hell is wrong with you?"

“Good question,” Merlin muttered in response before he could stop himself. His eyes widened in surprise, in a slightly more amusing manner than Arthur’s, and he quickly looked away, trying not to think about how warm Arthur’s hand felt against his skin and oh gods did that food just move?

He squinted closely at the main dish in the middle of the groaning table. As if sensing the attention, it gave what could only be called a twitch, and he leapt back, pulling his arm free in the process. “I jus remembered that, er…” Frantically he wracked his brain for some explanation, but all he could think was that he had to get out of there now before any more craziness happened. “…That I…forgot to remember something,” he finished lamely, for once hoping that Arthur really did think he was that much of an idiot. That was probably one of his safer plans.

Still, probably best just to run for it. Without waiting for any response from Arthur, Merlin turned and scurried out of the banquet hall, before breaking into a full-out run as soon as he was out of the doors.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was really only one person who might be able to really, properly explain whatever this was. 

Well, one magical creature.

\----------

It wasn’t until he was walking into the cavern that Merlin realised he hadn’t needed to come up with any distraction for the guards; he had just walked past them, without some random display of magic. He also didn’t remember grabbing a torch, yet somehow the stairs had been lit perfectly. …Which was all very useful, but not helpful for the general panic right now.

Things only got worse when he found the dragon already waiting for him, with what looked horribly like the winged-magical-creature equivalent of a smug smile. That was never a good start to their ‘conversations’, even back when Merlin had honestly believed it wanted to help him.

“I was wondering when you might visit, young warlock.”

Neither was the dragon starting the conversation itself.

He scowled at it, wishing that he could manage even half the strength of one of Arthur’s. “You know what’s happening to me?” he snapped, not really in the mood after a day of not being sure whether he was more scared of the guards catching him or what he would end up doing if they didn’t.

A small chuckle. “I have been expecting it.”

And that made Merlin’s mind derail slightly. “You knew this was going to happen?” he spluttered in disbelief.

“Of course. If you had been a little more regular in your visits of late, I would have been able to prepare you.”

Okay, so Merlin had come down here for answers. That didn’t stop any of this sounding insane. “ _Prepare_ me? I’ve been doing magic all day without meaning to, I’m being followed by _birds_ , all the coins are falling how I say they will and you thought you could _prepare_ me for that?” Merlin had a bit of a tendency to rant when he got stressed. As far as he was concerned, this situation definitely qualified. “A _warning_ would have been better!”

As ever, the dragon looked unmoved by the sight of an extremely stressed and incredibly frightened warlock. “A warning suggests that this is something to be feared. Far from it: this is only natural.” It paused. “Inevitable, in fact.”

Merlin took a deep breath to stop himself from launching off again. “What exactly is natural about this?”

“Everything,” the dragon said, without hesitation. “You are coming into your power, warlock, now that you are deemed of age. These instances of your magic are the waves before the ocean.” If Merlin hadn’t been very quickly going into shock, he might have made some comment about how that didn’t even make that much sense.

“So…” he started, then stopped to take a deep breath. “This is… This is all about my magic then?”

“Did you ever doubt it?”

The dragon looked amused, the way it did when it was still manipulating Merlin like an idiot, and the memory stabbed at him enough to make him retort, “How do I know you’re not just making it up again?”

The mood suddenly shifted, becoming much colder. “I never _lied_ , Merlin,” it said icily, narrowing its eyes at him, and if his magic hadn’t been buzzing in his veins Merlin might have been scared. “And I have not started to do so now. You are a creature of the old religion like me, allowed to live as a mortal man until you reached maturity, as it were.” Normally Merlin would have been offended by the small snort the dragon lets out there, except also normally he wouldn’t have been having his world turned upside down with a sickening wrench.

“I was just… _allowed_ to be human?” he asked in disbelief, choosing to take it one step at a time and failing slightly. “And now what? I just…stop?” He tried to laugh, but it came out as something strangled and inhuman…and that wasn’t a word he wanted to use right now. “So much for a destiny here.” He only just stopped himself from saying _with Arthur_ , because for some reason the thought of the prince right then actually _hurt_.

“As of tonight, warlock – as of the anniversary of your birth – the power you have a right to will be yours. Your destiny will be yours to decide.”

Merlin blinked at it in surprise. Surely it didn’t…“You mean…I’ll think I make the decisions, but it all turns out the way it’s supposed to?”

One of these days he would figure out how something covered in scales could look like it was raising an eyebrow. “You missed the significance of the coins, warlock. Once you start to change chance, you will find that fate and destiny are not much further away.”

There was a small avalanche in the far-off depths of the cavern. Neither of them moved.

“I can change…destiny?” Merlin asked slowly, not entirely sure how he was supposed to react to that. Apart from accidental avalanches, that was.

“You will be able to. But,” it added, looking at him closely, “when you see the destinies ahead, you will also see that there is a reason for them. That there is a reason why no others have decided to change them before you.”

Merlin looked back at him dazedly, mind spinning and a slight ringing noise in his ears. “But... Why wouldn’t I want to change something bad?”

“For the same reason a storyteller does not prevent the misfortunes of their own characters, despite them being within their control: you will know _why_ it must happen.”

It was too much to take in. Before he could ask any more though, that ringing became a shriek and there was a sudden burst inside him – as if all his magic had thrown itself forwards at the same time – and he doubled up, gritting his teeth, gasping from the shock of it. Glaring up at the dragon, he hissed, “So what happens now?”

“The hour approaches, it appears,” and damn it, that bloody reptile could at least look as if this wasn’t just mildly interesting, like some new moss on his bloody walls. “The magic will come to you, wherever you are.”

Arthur flashed into his head again, stronger than before, and he bit down on another surge, a small burst finding its way out to light up the cavern like daylight. “And anyone near me?”

“It would depend on how well you control your new self.”

Merlin glanced up towards the ceiling, even though he was inside a giant _cavern_ and there was no way he could see the sun or anything from in here…except suddenly he just _knew_ , the same way he could know from one look whatever Arthur was feeling. He knew he didn’t have long.

Without bothering to say anything in return, he turned and ran for the stairs.

\----------

It was good thing his magic apparently cared enough to keep him warm, Merlin thought bitterly as he ran through the snow drifts. A blizzard had broken out, stronger than Merlin had seen even in Ealdor on those long winter nights when they had huddled together for warmth and he had chosen not to think about being born when there was so much death out there. Unsurprisingly it raged strongest around him – unsurprising because he could feel his magic strongly enough now to sense it at work in the air around him, as well as ahead, parting the way for him.

Every now and again he had to choke back a burst of magic, the effort of keeping it inside making his eyes water and his stomach twist. Gods, he hoped that whatever would eventually happen to him (he could feel it somehow, counting down somewhere inside himself now that he knew what to feel for) wouldn’t be as painful as what was coming before it. Or maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he just let it out; stopped stifling it the way he always had to in Camelot.

The thought of the capital tugged at him before he could stop it. On one level he recoiled from having to hide; on another, the thought that he might not be human, that he might not be able to go back, might not be able to see Arthur – save as a traitor – tore at him. Regardless of its laws, Camelot (and Arthur, his mind managed to add in the confusion) was his home now.

Which was exactly why he was running away right now: the city, and everybody within it, didn’t deserve whatever he might do when the full force of his magic hit. Or rather _the_ magic, since it wasn’t his yet and he was pretty certain he didn’t want it to be either.

Eventually he stopped, not out of conscious choice but from his old clumsiness abruptly reasserting itself in a trip which led into a spectacular fall forwards. Sprawled there, dazed and spitting out snow, he wondered whether creatures of the old religion ever tripped up; whether they did anything human, or was that a stupid question?

He pulled himself to his feet, reluctant suddenly to stand and run again. Smaller bursts shook him, making him tremble, and a few shining lights escaped from his skin. They were coming faster now, not quite as strong but wearing him down. _‘Not long now.’_

Shakily he rose to his feet; snow melting effortlessly in the air before it even reached him. The wind howled, sounding like it was saying his name, but that was just fanciful thinking (probably). Staring ahead, he wondered whether he should try to make for the forest to make sure he was away from Camelot. It was hard to gauge how much longer he had. What would happen to it if it hit while he was still in there?

Then he jumped and let out an involuntary yell, cascades of snow flying off the trees in response, as a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Merlin,” a weary and achingly familiar voice said from behind him, “what are you doing out here?”

In shock, he spun around to see Arthur glaring at him, arms crossed and obviously freezing. “I realise that normal behaviour isn’t something you’re familiar with,” he continued, apparently oblivious to the look of shock on Merlin’s face, “but anybody with even half a brain will tell you not to go running out in a blizzard.” He looked up at that, peering at the sky, and Merlin wondered if the snow had started melting over him as well. He didn’t look though, as surprise quickly turned to horror.

“Arthur,” he croaked, before clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut as another wave hit him. He breathed out slowly, and then continued insistently, “you have to get out of here.”

The prince looked at him incredulously. “Merlin,” he said slowly, “we both need to go back. It’s too cold for this…” he gestured vaguely at his servant, “…whatever this is.”

Merlin bit his lip, wondering if he could outrun the prince. Normally the answer would be an extremely simple _no_ , but maybe if he used the snow to his advantage… “Arthur, it’s not _safe_. You have to _go_.” On the last word, another rush hit him, stronger than the ones before, knocking him off-balance and only spared the fall by Arthur catching him just in time. Which was appreciated, obviously, but still left the problem of the bloody crown prince standing next to a warlock who was about to get hit by an awful lot of magic. Not exactly a comforting thought, to say the least.

He could feel Arthur resting his head briefly on top of his, in that oddly affectionate way he had developed when he found himself in the position of saving Merlin. Then he was yanked to arm’s length as he found himself under exactly the kind of close scrutiny which always made him feel uncomfortable. “I’m not going anywhere,” he announced stubbornly. “And I want you to tell me what’s been wrong with you today.”

Even though now really wasn’t the time or place for a good innocence defence, Merlin tried his smile anyway. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

Arthur groaned, looking like he would greatly love to throw Merlin in the stocks for that alone. “I’m not an _idiot_ ,” he growled out. “You’ve been jumping at the slightest sound all day, you run out of a banquet after acting strangely even by your standards, and then there’s—” He broke off, suddenly looking about as awkward as Arthur seemed able to manage, an expression which suggested he hadn’t meant to go on. He hesitated, then sighed. Looking at Merlin even more seriously than before, he asked, “Is it a…you know?” He gestured vaguely, making Merlin wonder if he was using some hand-signals he hadn’t deemed fit to teach yet.

Then, in what was becoming an increasingly regular experience, Merlin felt his world take an extremely disorienting spin off somewhere completely unknown as Arthur sighed again (unusual – was he nervous?) and asked through gritted teeth, “Is it a magic thing?”

Considering the fact that Merlin had been told that he was essentially going to stop being human very, very soon, it was interesting to find that it was those words which managed to make the blood drain rapidly away from his face. “What?” he spluttered, frantically trying to find his bearings again. Overhead, the blizzard was whipped into an even greater frenzy, although the flakes and wind never reached them.

“Magic. That thing you do when you apparently think you’re invisible.” Once the word was out there, a familiar glower started to appear on Arthur’s face. In a slightly crazy moment Merlin thought how much Arthur looked like his father, which then reminded him of Uther, and oh shit.

“You knew?” he asked weakly, visions of scaffolds and bonfires and axes eagerly jostling for space in his head.

Arthur let out a clearly exasperated noise, something which happened incredibly often between them yet took on a far more threatening edge in this context. “Merlin, how many times did you think I was going to believe that objects _just happen_ to fall at the right times on the right people? That things happen around you and you claim not to know anything about them? Just how unobservant do you think I am?”

Really there was nothing Merlin could say to that. He had always just…accepted that Arthur didn’t notice those things. Not because the prince was an idiot, since he was obviously a lot brighter than many people realised, but because, well… “I just hoped you wouldn’t see.”

Normally the look on Arthur’s face would be something Merlin would treasure, disbelief and exasperation and annoyance all battling for dominance. “That was your survival strategy?” he eventually asked. When Merlin could only smile helplessly, he rolled his eyes up to the sky. “Gods help us,” he murmured.

Then he looked back at Merlin. “Even if I had _somehow_ missed miraculous recoveries and all those lucky accidents; even if I’d managed to convince myself that every little odd thing about you was a coincidence…” The warlock flinched as the prince suddenly levelled a finger at him, a hair’s breadth away from his face, “there was always _that_.”

Blinking nervously, Merlin crossed his eyes to get a better look at the accusing finger. It simply seemed to be pointing at, well, him. “What?” he asked, aware that that was getting a little repetitive as a reaction.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said slowly, drawing out his name so that he could hear every veiled insult within, “ _your eyes glow gold._ How was I going to miss that?”

And there it was. All that panicking, all that agonising, all that lying…

…and his eyes had been giving him away the whole time. 

At the thought of all that wasted time, he muttered, “It’s a bit anticlimactic, isn’t it?”

This time it was Arthur’s turn to say “What?”

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve wanted to tell you,” he thought of all those rehearsed conversations and opportunities he was afraid to seize, “how many times I almost did… And you knew all along?” Briefly he forgot about the magic, the snow, the old religion, everything, in favour of the sheer weight of what Arthur was telling him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you didn’t.” The look on Arthur’s face was not a friendly one. “I don’t care if you’re casting spells if it’s to save people – it would be a bit hypocritical considering the amount of times you’ve used it to save me. It was never about me finding out; it was about you _telling_ me.”

“You wanted to know if I trusted you,” Merlin said quietly as realisation dawned. Arthur had wanted to know if and when Merlin would trust him, and Merlin had failed the test miserably. “When did you – How long have you been waiting?”

Arthur tried a smile, which seemed to come off only slightly better than Merlin’s own attempts. “When you’ve been told magic’s evil all your life, you don’t want to know that it’s not that simple. Especially when—” and he broke off again, this time not picking up the thread again. “I’d worked it out for a while and didn’t understand why you wouldn’t say anything about it. Then, after the Questing Beast… That’s when I realised you were never going to tell me.”

“How’d you figure that?”

A more genuine, sadder smile. “You sounded like you were saying goodbye. And you still didn’t say.”

At that point, a great deal of things suddenly clicked into place which had only confused Merlin at the time. Arthur’s behaviour after his recovery – apparently happy to be alive, but oddly withdrawn, and giving him those strange, slightly sad looks – and then the abrupt insistence on a more traditional master-servant relationship. Even his sudden attention to Gwen, the thought of which still hurt a surprising amount.

“Tell me the truth, Merlin, for once,” Arthur said, breaking through his thoughts. “When were you ever going to tell me?”

Merlin stared at him, not sure what to say. He opened his mouth to answer, before reluctantly closing it again. The silence stretched out, growing heavier with each second, because really, when Merlin thought about it, what _had_ he been waiting for? He’d had the chances, plenty of them. Had he really been that scared? That untrusting? That desperate not to lose Arthur?

Luckily (and that was really the only scenario where it would feel like luck) he was saved by a surge which had sneaked up on him, large enough to make him cry out, snowflakes suddenly sparkling and making shapes in the air. He felt his knees give out, and it was only with Arthur’s help that he didn’t collapse straight to the ground.

“What’s happening to you?” Arthur asked quietly, even tenderly if that could ever be attributed to him, unconsciously echoing Merlin’s earlier questions.

He bit his lip, wondering just how much trust he could really ask for after letting Arthur down for all of that time. “Do you remember coming of age? Getting named crown prince?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “Involved an undead knight, I recall.”

“Well, this is like that.” Merlin considered for a moment, before adding, “Without the knight.”

Arthur gave him an odd look. “You’re coming of age? Now?” He paused. “Your birthday’s at Midwinter?” Trust Arthur to focus on something that really didn’t matter right now.

And this laugh wasn’t forced, just cynical, not like anything Merlin usually did. “Exact moment it happens. And apparently that means coming into a lot of magic and…” His gaze snapped up to meet Arthur’s as he remembered. “Gods, that’s why you have to go!”

Arthur did at least have the decency to look a little bit worried, except that might have been more to do with his armful of panicking manservant. “Merlin, I’m not leaving you in the snow!”

“I’ll be fine!” He heaved himself to his feet, almost collapsing again before finally finding his footing. The magic was spinning in his mind now, impossibly loud. “Look, when it hits I won’t be…” He stopped, not wanting to say it. Saying it would make it real, would mean letting Arthur know everything…but he owed him the truth, so he steeled himself and said, “I don’t just do magic, Arthur: it’s _in_ me. And when it all comes tonight… I don’t think I’ll be human anymore. I’ll be whatever _it_ wants.”

Before he could know Arthur’s reaction, that countdown in his head suddenly flashed up, burning bright into his thoughts. “Oh gods, it’s almost here… Why the hell aren’t you running?”

Maybe he had missed some initial shock, but Arthur now had a stubbornly obstinate look on his face that set off warning bells in any situation. Arthur could make mules seem easy-going when he put his mind to something, which was so very much not what Merlin needed right now.

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I’m not leaving you. There is no way that I am going to leave you to face this on your own.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” If that sounded like a wail, it really didn’t matter right now. “I’m not going to be _human_ —”

“Which is exactly why you need me to stay here and help you. We’ve been at this long enough, saving each other; you’d think you’d know how it works between us by now.”

And that mattered to Merlin. Truly mattered. He stared at the prince, feeling, for the first time since he had seen those birds that morning, as if maybe this wasn’t so bad. Like Arthur had said, they had done this before. Just another case of one of them saving the other…

Which was why his last thought was of Arthur when his full power came crashing into him.

\----------

The world blurred, spinning crazily out of control, and his immediate fear – a child running from the storm – was overwhelmed by a euphoria that made him laugh out loud. The magic was still buzzing inside him – no, now it was singing. When he looked down, he could see it rushing through him, making his skin glow like a fire. At the same time, his mind was reaching out, splintering and refining into a thousand branches, sensing everything around him – all that life: in the trees, in the animals. They were all part of nature, part of what had been called the old religion, and now he was as connected to them as they were to each other.

That was what the birds had been telling him all along, except he hadn’t known how to understand them then. Not like he could now, hearing them sheltering from the snow but still responding to the magic they had sensed on its way.

There was so much energy bubbling through him that he didn’t know what to do with it. It crackled between his fingers, leaping out and back again, running playfully along his arms and making the hairs stand on end. Every spark enticed another out, and each one only heightened the sensation.

Dimly over the roaring in his ears he registered that somebody was talking to him. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but as he reached for it another surge pulled him away again, purer voices whispering to him from somewhere inside him, or the world around him – it wasn’t clear which and it didn’t matter.

A sudden pressure on his arms drew him back. Somebody had grabbed him, and he stared incredulously down at the hands gripping him. They looked strange against his skin, glowing in a quite different way. Interesting.

Abruptly the voice snapped into focus with his distracted attention. “—grinning like an idiot and can you even hear me calling you that? Merlin?”

“Emrys,” he mumbled, slightly confused by the strange name. It sounded familiar, except every part of him told him that this was his real name, the only name he had ever really had. The only name that could ever apply to him.

“What?” The hands shook him firmly, before being snatched away as Emrys’ magic spiked out in protest. “Merlin, look at me.”

Reluctantly, not willing to respond to what was obviously the wrong name, he looked up, before quickly shutting his eyes in pain. Whoever was standing in front of him (slowly his mind was recollecting the pieces from where they had scattered to) was shining with _something_ inside, harsh white light burning into his eyes. Cautiously he opened them again, squinting against the glare. Frowning, he thought that it should be dimmer, and it obediently faded.

There was a man looking intently at him, apparently concerned but with more than a little fear curling off him – Emrys could taste it. No, not just a man: Arthur. King Arthur. Prince Arthur. The names circled around his head, dizzying for a moment for before he could pin them down into something he could follow. Something chronological, to begin with.

It was as he managed to get a fix on whatever time was doing that a bit more knowledge settled into his mind. “I can see your destiny,” he said slowly, wonderingly. “That’s what that is… It really is a strong one.”

Rather than looking pleased at the revelation (that was what men wanted to hear, wasn’t it? That they were important?), Arthur just looked even more worried. “What are you talking about?” He frowned. “Is that even you talking?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, distracted momentarily by the images shaken loose by his control of the light. In the same way he just _knew_ that his name was Emrys, he knew what they were: pictures of the destiny of the man in front of him, linking together until he could see a narrative. It wasn’t a matter of viewing them in order; more a bewildering view of them all at once and simply knowing how they all fitted together. A castle followed by an ocean, followed by a large circular table, the meaning of all of which settling comfortably into his mind with little resistance.

“Huh,” he said, a small memory occurring to him from far away as he saw the face of a young man with dark hair and pale skin, a bloody sword held in his hand, “Kilgharrah was right about him.”

“Right about who?” Arthur demanded, annoyance bleeding into worry now, tracing familiar patterns in the air around him. “Gods, as if you could make even less sense.”

Perhaps before the insult might have reached him – deep down he felt a part of him want to respond – but now it barely registered. “Your destiny,” he said slowly, leaning in to squint at the prince. “I can see it. All of it. I know exactly what you do. What happens to you.”

He tried to say more, but suddenly found his mouth covered by a hand. Strange response. Raising his eyes to meet Arthur’s, he raised his eyebrows questioningly, as if he wasn’t quite capable of forcing the improvised gag away.

Arthur was looking more apprehensive, although at least he seemed unaware of his other hand twitching towards his sword. Probably an unconscious reaction to danger, Emrys decided. “Don’t tell me,” he insisted. “Just…don’t.”

Now Emrys gently nudged the hand away with a short, casual burst of magic, ignoring the way Arthur snatched it back, rubbing at it as if somehow hurt. “You don’t want to know? Isn’t that what humans are always asking?”

The prince’s attention snapped back to him at that. “‘What humans’- Merlin, _you’re_ human. Remember?”

That was a point. That small memory had reminded him of a time before he was standing here in the snow, faced by a curiously aggravating mortal. “Temporarily,” he said after consideration. “It happens.”

“It hap—” Apparently Arthur had even given up on talking, choosing instead to stare at him in open disbelief. “Merlin, this is not you! You’re human, just like me!”

He cocked his head in confusion. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

Arthur apparently shared the emotion. “What, Merlin? That’s your name, what else am I supposed to call you?”

“You could try my real name.” He smiled helpfully, comforted by the shared memories which stole across the snow into him which told him that mortals could take a while to grasp most things. “Emrys.”

“Emrys? Where did you get that from?” For some reason Arthur found it necessary to point towards him. Odd human gesture. “Your name is _Merlin_ , the same as it has been your whole life.”

“Human life. Not this one.”

Arthur suddenly snapped, “Stop that!” Gritting his teeth, he reached out to grab Emrys before apparently changing his mind. Emrys hardly noticed, distracted by the strange discolourations in the air around him. Anger, worry, fear were all still there, yet the more they talked, the more another emotion wound its way to the surface: hurt?

“Stop saying you’re not human!” Strange, he looked almost desperate, although that was mainly based on the emotions floating around him than his face. “You’re as human as they come, Merlin!”

“Don’t call me--”

“No, I’m not going to! You were the one scared of losing your humanity, I’m not going to let whoever else is in there with you throw it away!”

That really made no sense whatsoever. Not until Emrys finally pieced it together. “Merlin’s not somebody else in my head,” he said slowly, as if to a small child, “he’s me. Just the mortal me.”

Arthur shook his head stubbornly. “No. No, you’re not him. Merlin doesn’t call himself different names or have,” he waved his hands vaguely at him, “weird magic crackling off him! And he might talk about destiny sometimes, but he doesn’t know what it is any more than I do.”

“I told you, I can tell you what it is!” Was he missing something here?

“And I told you not to! Merlin, we’re not supposed to know things like that!” He threw up his hands in frustration. “You can’t change them, so what good does it do? Everything stops being a life. It just becomes a set of instructions!”

Emrys shrugged, idly flicking through the scenes in his head. “I could change them, you know,” he mused. Absent-mindedly he rubbed a thumb across his fingers, sending sparks of magic flying off into the snow. “I know how it goes; it’s not too hard to change it.”

Arthur grabbed his hand to still it, before quickly letting go when the sparks leapt against his skin. His eyes looked strangely horrified, or perhaps overwhelmed by the idea. “You can change destiny?” he asked weakly, looking like he might collapse.

“If I wanted to,” he mused, mulling it over. He frowned, peering ahead into the future beyond the ocean. “Except…He was right. I know why it has to happen.” Sadly he looked back at the man in front of him. “I’m sorry, it’s a hard life,” he moved quickly on when he saw Arthur open his mouth to stop him, “but it has to happen like that. Too many things happen, or don’t happen, if I save you.”

“Save me?” Arthur echoed. Then a small rueful smile, the first Emrys had seen, appeared briefly on his face. “That would break the tradition, wouldn’t it?”

“The tradition?”

“You saving me. Me saving you. I guess sooner or later it was going to stop.” That smile was definitely sad now, twisting into a far less welcome expression, and for some reason Emrys felt an answering twist in his chest. “I just didn’t think it would happen like this. I didn’t think I was going to fail first.”

“Fail?” Were humans always this confusing? The voices from elsewhere were strangely silent, replaced by an odd ringing in his ears. “What did you fail at?”

“Saving you, apparently.” He leant back, eyeing Emrys. “You say you’re not human and you refuse to believe me when I say you’re wrong.” He shook his head. “And there’s this Emrys nonsense that you won’t listen to me about.”

“Emrys is my name—”

“No, it’s not!” Suddenly the old fire surged back into Arthur’s eyes. “You may be Emrys when you’re like this,” he gestured at him in a way Emrys found oddly insulting, “but that’s only so far as I’m the crown prince: it’s just a name! I’m still Arthur, and you’re still Merlin!” He paused, breathing heavily, and a part of himself which Emrys didn’t recognise from before muttered that he looked like he was about to do something incredibly stupid and reckless.

That part forgot to include ‘strange’ in its description – as far as Emrys was concerned, everything Arthur did around him was odd or baffling in some way – as Arthur reached out to take hold of his face, forcing their gazes together. “You’re an idiot, you’re clumsy, you’re terrible at following orders, you’re the most hopeless servant anybody in Camelot has ever seen…” He chuckled to himself at some joke Emrys had apparently missed. “You don’t have to sneak food from the cook because one grin and everybody trips over themselves to help you. Including me, which is no mean feat, by the way.

“You drive Gaius mad but you’re the closest thing to a son he’s ever had, and I’m guessing he’s the closest thing to a father you’ve had too. You have completely stupid hair and ears which could happily exist without you,” he cast judging looks at the features in question and Emrys felt an irrational urge to reach up to try to hide them somehow.

“You’ve saved my life more times than any of us can count, and quite frankly I don’t want to or else it could seriously damage my reputation.” Emrys quickly quashed his strange urge to say ‘prat’. “You use magic in Camelot, despite it being _illegal_ and you completely lacking any stealth whatsoever,” Emrys opened his mouth to protest, then wondered why he felt he needed to, “and you almost give me a heart attack every time I realise you’ve done something that stupid!”

 _‘So don’t worry,’_ Emrys thought rebelliously, before frowning at such an irrational thought. Something was tugging at him, something he didn’t recognise but which apparently could reach inside him, pulling at a part of him which felt odd, awkward amongst all of the sense and joy of magic.

Fortunately a distraction came with Arthur’s other hand joining the first, so that he was now cradling Emrys’ face as he looked deep into his eyes, although the distraction was only temporary as the sight of those eyes so close to his own wrenched at that very same part, pulling it further out.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Arthur announced, “you pretend you’re much more stupid than you look, and you’re so much more powerful than you let on that it scares me sometimes. Except even when you’ve done something completely impossible, like dragging me back from _death_ , you still go back to being a servant and hiding who you are. You could do so much for yourself, but you don’t. Because you’re a much better person than that.” He grinned at him. “A better _human_ ,” he added teasingly, and Emrys fought a strong urge to grin back.

Something might have shown in his face though, because if anything Arthur’s smile only grew wider. “You keep me sane, which is impressive in itself around here.” He took a deep breath, looking closely at him. “You’re reckless, stupid, ridiculously selfless, clumsy, possibly slightly suicidal and definitely mad, and I think I may be a bit in love with you, which would be nonsense if it was true because you’re a servant and magic, not to mention a man, as well as being a complete _idiot_ most of the time, even when you’re saving me – in fact, especially when you’re saving me – and the worst part is that the more I think about it, the more I think I really have done something that stupid.”

The last jumble of words – no thought and all feeling – all came out in a rush, in a stream of insanity that left Emrys blinking stupidly at him. His mind was still trying to grab at anything that had made any sense whatsoever in that sentence (and failing), other bits of him scrambling blindly to grasp just what Arthur had said to him, when the prince proved just how odd and strange he was.

His touch adjusted into a firm grip; he leaned forward faster than Emrys could react (except of course he could, his magic could move faster than thought, he just didn’t for some reason that escaped him before he could reach towards it) and he kissed him.

Kissed him.

It was only a small brush of the lips, nothing which should have blown his mind the way it had. However, Arthur only pulled away long enough to whisper against his lips, “Emrys, Merlin, whatever you call yourself – you’re mine,” before plunging in with something much longer and stronger than that brief touch.

Which could have been quite awkward – uncomfortable even – except Emrys found himself following without choosing it. When he felt Arthur’s tongue against his lips, he parted them obediently, and when it sought out his own, he met it willingly. Arthur’s hands slowly slid down his face – enticing as the buzz of Emrys’ magic met the tingling swirl of emotions around the prince – finally resting comfortably against the back of his neck. As if prompted by the action, his own hands reached out, brushing against Arthur’s chest, his sides, as if confused about where they should go, before drifting down to rest on his hips as if they had always belonged there.

Arthur’s fingers twitched against his neck, pulling playfully at a strand of hair, and Merlin thought irritably that of course Arthur would do something as annoying as yanking on somebody’s hair at a time like this—

Until he registered that thought and froze.

Arthur stopped too, before slowly pulling back to look at him in bemusement. Apparently he saw something that he liked in his face though, because an achingly hopeful glint appeared in his eyes which, Merlin had no doubt, he would deny completely later.

And that thought made him murmur quietly, “Merlin.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, obviously trying not to let that hope show but failing in all those small ways which Merlin could read like a book now. “What did you say?”

A little louder, he said wonderingly, “It just came to me. Merlin. That’s my name.” He smiled, unsure of what exactly to say yet trying to pick out the words from the mix inside his head of knowledge trying to assemble itself into something he – Merlin, the human – could deal with.

“I think… I think I might be able to choose. Who I am. Whether I want to be…that.” He thought of the sight of the destiny shining out of Arthur, the memory something beautiful in retrospect. And he remembered seeing that destiny lying ahead of Arthur, even the one before him, seeing where it led…and saying that he wouldn’t save him.

That wasn’t him.

“I’m Merlin,” he insisted, biting down on Emrys’ protest, mentally forcing him away to a distance. As he did so, he felt that sense of time happening all at once slowly fade away; not completely, but into a vague sense which lay at the back of his mind. The knowledge slinked along behind it, curling up where he could no longer hear it, but where he could reach it if he wanted. Finally, Emrys himself went, wrapping himself in the destinies Merlin refused to see, because Arthur was right: he shouldn’t know. Not if he really wanted to be human.

He shivered, the last tendrils of Emrys trailing away, and felt like maybe he was human again. Mostly.

Looking back, away from the point in the sky he had left his gaze fixed on, he saw Arthur smiling at him. “What?”

“You’re you now, aren’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Stupid question, prat.”

“Guess that settles it.” Really, seeing that soft and content an expression on Arthur’s face sort of made Merlin want to run away and hide. “Your eyes are back. Not that the gold doesn’t look great, but I prefer them this way.”

Which was complete nonsense, and Merlin said so. Apparently Arthur didn’t care. Instead, his smile took on a much more familiar smug edge, as he said, “So, I’m just that good a kisser then?”

Merlin pushed him away at that. “Only average,” he shot back, trying to stifle his grin and failing utterly. “And how about that giant speech? What’s it worth for me not to tell Morgana about that?”

That wiped the smile away in no time at all. “Don’t you dare.”

“Hmm, and how about your little confession?” Merlin asked teasingly. Arthur just blushed – actually _blushed_ , which was scary in itself – and looked away. After a pause, savouring the moment, Merlin decided to take pity on him, grabbing his hand because he vaguely recalled that that was the way to act if Arthur was a girl. Except he wasn’t, and the mental image made him snort.

“What now?” Arthur asked, long-suffering as ever.

“Nothing.” He hummed happily, collapsing to the ground, oblivious to the snow piled up around him. As far as he was concerned, it was as warm as summer in Ealdor.

Arthur looked like he was about to say something sarcastic about Merlin’s lack of balance, before he was cut off as he was suddenly ungracefully yanked to the ground next to Merlin by an invisible hand. “The hell?” he snapped. “I thought you needed--”

“What?” Merlin grinned at him, his eyes fading back to blue. “Words? I just gave up the big bits, Arthur – I’m still of age, I still get most of the perks. I’m just, well…”

“Human?” Arthur offered, sitting up again.

Merlin nodded. “Yeah,” he said happily, “human.” He didn’t like how close he had come to being like the dragon – separate from mortals, from _Arthur_ , and undeniably alone.

Perhaps some of his thoughts showed in his face, because Arthur reached out and turned his head towards him. “And don’t you forget it,” he growled, before leaning in to kiss him again.

Merlin pulled him closer, humming happily, save for when he broke off to slap Arthur’s hand away from his hair.

Maybe he had had so much more power. Maybe it was still there, lurking in the background. Maybe tomorrow the birds would still be following him, attracted by the magic of nature which was still singing in his veins, tempting like fire in winter.

But, of age or not, being human – and kissing Arthur in swirling snow in a way which brought rushes of its own – was pretty bloody fantastic on its own.


End file.
